


Spirits

by Alley_Walk (AlleyWalk_writes)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Spirits and Spirit Hunters, BAMF Draco Malfoy, BAMF Harry Potter, BAMF Hermione Granger, BAMF Ron Weasley, Because of Reasons, Being Rewritten, Book 5: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix, Dead Mr and Mrs Granger, Everyone Is Gay, Find on my account, Gen, Hermione Granger was raised by Regulus Black, Hermione and Regulus live in America, I DO NOT SUPPORT JKRs transphobic views, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Kitsune Harry Potter, M/M, POV Alternating, POV Draco Malfoy, POV Harry Potter, POV Hermione Granger, POV Multiple, POV Ron Weasley, POV alternates between the main four, Pre-Canon, Regulus Black Lives, Sort Of, Spirit hunters, Spirits, The Eidolon Ordinance, The Phantom Order, Trans Harry Potter, does that count as main character death?, not for long tho... ;), rewrite named: Eidolon, seriously or... siriusly AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-10
Updated: 2020-10-11
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:54:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,394
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26929972
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlleyWalk_writes/pseuds/Alley_Walk
Summary: Everyone has a secret or two. They may even have more than that, finding themselves burdened with someone else's problems.But that's all they are.Secrets.But secrets can become dangerous. And some might find the responsibility of that danger burdensome and set the truth free.But the truth, in this instance, can be more dangerous than the lie.§§§Spirits roam the earth, barely contained by the Wizarding World. Different factions vie for power as the dead become more restless each day, something dark stirring inside Britain's borders with Harry and the others caught in the middle of it.He guessed that famous Potter luck had to run out somehow.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Pansy Parkinson & Blaise Zabini, Ships Uncertain, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Kudos: 1





	1. Chapter 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey, y'all!
> 
> just a few notes before we begin:
> 
> I _do not support_ J.K. Rowling's transphobic views, and in fact would unbuy her books if I could.
> 
> anyway, how this is going to go is an alternating POV between the main four, at least at first until i establish everything. Then as things get more established and explained the POVs will get longer with maybe 3-1 a chapter, depending on how much action is going on at the time. 
> 
> I can't think of any cw's for this one, so begin! ^-^

Chapter One • Secrets

Hermione

Saturday, November 25th, 1989

The room was a vast space that was completely circular, with bookshelves set deep into the walls at close but irregular intervals. Hermione itched to go through them, but she knew that wasn’t what they were here for. The walls were a seafoam green and seemed to emit their own heat, and the floors were of a plush black carpet. There were squishy green and silver armchairs arrayed around tables piled with quill, ink, and parchment. In the center of the room was a circular dais that held several pedestals with weapons arrayed on top of them. Hermione could sense their cursed energy, weak as it was, reaching towards her. She looked towards Reg and he dipped his head. “Go ahead.” 

Hermione stepped forward onto the dais, her heart in her throat. She passed by a saber, covered in old blood. An automatic revolver, rusted beyond repair. She finally stopped beside a weapon that intrigued her. They were steel painted gold and looked almost like knuckle dusters, except they had curved claws on the end of each knuckle as long as her pointer finger. 

The steel was dull and gone to rust now, the stain marring the blades and knuckles only for the rust to peel off like autumn leaves onto the center of the dais. She could feel the weapon’s magic reaching for her, sharp and corrosive. And she found that she didn’t mind. Taking out a butterfly knife, she cut the edge of her finger and let her blood drip down onto the rusted metal. The blood sank into the metal, as the whole room began to shake around them. Hermione lost her feet, tumbling to the floor. When the last of the aftershocks died down, Reg helped her to her feet, grey eyes merry.

“Well that was fun,” He said dryly, and Hermione hit him on the shoulder, whirling away. Her knuckle dusters, her _bagh nakh_ , were no longer covered in rust but were completely renewed. She felt its dark power reaching towards her soul and let it in gladly, where it nestled inside her magical core, settling like a sleeping dragon. Hermione walked over and placed them over her fingers and with a flick of her wrists they melted off of her hands to form into dark brown bracelets around each wrist.

“Remember, Hermione,” Reg said.

Hermione nodded. “It’s our secret.”

* * *

Draco

Wednesday, July 15th, 1992

_The dreaded Kumiho have another name. The Dark God. [See Page 234] While it is unknown how exactly a Kitsune can become a Kumiho, it is advised that Kitsune be avoided at all costs-_

Draco sighed, slamming the book shut with more drama than was necessary. Reading about Spirits was _boring_ . He wanted to play Quidditch or go out into the field with Blaise and Pansy instead. It’s not like knowing about _every single spirit_ in the book was _completely_ necessary to being a part of the Phantom Order. At least, _he_ certainly didn’t think so. Besides, the Phantom Code was too dull for even Draco’s eloquent vocabulary to describe. 

“Drakey!” Pansy said, bursting into Draco’s bedroom with all the force of an incoming tornado. Her honey blonde hair was in perfect condition as always, falling in elegant curls around her face. Her royal blue eyes gave her face an innocent cast that was severely misleading. 

Draco’s bedroom was large, with silver walls streaked with soft, wispy clouds. The damask carpet was black and forest green, and he had a canopy bed against one wall with silken sheets and veils that were Slytherin green. The room had vast vaulted ceilings and spartan glass doors that lead to a balcony, and hovering near the ceiling were bright orbs of light that shone like stars. 

Blaise sauntered in, white blond hair cut short and sharp grey eyes taking in Draco’s hopeful expression and snorting. “We’re not here to get you out of your homework,” he said with a smirk. His light deep brown face was covered in soot, with a half-healed burn scoring across his stomach.

Draco winced at the sight. “Heliopaths again?” He asked, taking out his wand and moving to sit up on his bed. Blaise sighed and nodded, making a move towards the bed. “Ah, not the bed! _Scourgify! Episkey!”_ Draco said. “There,” He said graciously, gesturing towards the bed. Though Blaise was now some semblance of clean the burn was far from healed, being cursed.

“Your approval is touching,” Blaise said, whumping face first onto Draco’s bed. “Ow.” 

Draco patted him comfortingly on the back, not so incidentally pushing on a bruise that he could sense. Blaise smacked him in the stomach. “So what were you here for if not to save me in my time of need?” Draco asked.

“To complain, of course!” Pansy said, sitting primly at the edge of Draco’s bed. 

“Of course,” Draco said dryly, and Pansy gave him an innocent smile that Draco had stopped buying nearly a month after bonding with his staff.

Blaise groaned, rolling over onto his back so that his head was near Pansy and his legs were draped over Draco’s. _Do not kill Blaise, do not kill Bliase…_ Blaise sighed, rubbing his face. “Do. You. _Know_. How many malignant Spirits I have killed today? Too many, that’s what.”

“The amount of them has been steadily increasing, ever since…” Pansy trailed off, and they looked at each other uncertainly.

Then Draco pushed Blaise off the bed, and Blaise gave an undignified yelp.

* * *

Harry

Sunday, August 21st, 1994

Up in the relative privacy of his bedroom, Harry felt as if he were coughing his lungs out. There was something stuck in his throat, and he couldn’t breathe. He did his daily tasks like normal around the house, not wanting to trouble the Dursleys. As if he could trouble them, with how happy they always were. An idyllic family, with no place for him. 

Harry felt a coughing fit come over him as he was making the eggs, and he curled over himself as wracking coughs ran through his frame. He coughed into his fist, and when he uncurled and pulled away, he found liquid starlight on his hand. 

“Boy, what’s all this racket?!” Uncle Vernon yelled down the stairs.

“Nothing, Uncle!” Harry called, quickly wiping off his hand and turning back to the food. The Dursley’s got vaguely sick that day, huddled up in bed with a drowsiness and lassitude that was uncommon to them. Harry worried that it might have something to do with this new freakishness, and quickly confined himself to his room.

He was stuck in bed all day coughing out black liquid that shone with stars, until finally, with a last cough, something popped out of his mouth and fell off the bed, rolling away until it hit the opposite wall. Harry felt an odd pain in his chest, and slowly stood to move towards it. It was a perfectly round sphere that fit right into the center of his palm, cold to the touch and a pure, bright white.

Harry leaned against the wall with the sphere in his hand, feeling a surge of protectiveness for it. Harry knew that he couldn’t tell anyone. It would have to remain a secret. His secret, and no one else’s.

* * *

Ron

Tuesday, July 18th, 1995

Ron sat on a grassy hill overlooking the bustling muggle town below, the clear blue sky giving the sun ample opportunity to shine its light down onto the land below. Rolling green hills stretched out before him, grass cresting like a wave in the warm summer breeze. It smelled of fertilizer and hay, not an unpleasant smell considering how and where Ron grew up. The Burrow had chickens, and Ron often found himself roped into helping with the chicken coop or fertilizing the garden. But for once it was peaceful, and Ron lay back and let himself soak up the sunshine, feeling it fill him with a pleasant warmth.

“Hello, Ronnikins!”

Ron sighed, sitting up and opening his eyes. _Never a dull day with these two mucking about._ The twins were wearing matching robes again, and seemed pleased with themselves to have even come up with the idea. 

“Do you like our new robes, Ronnikins?” Fred asked.

“Quite our style, don’t you think?” George parried.

Ron scratched his head and shrugged. “I mean, I guess so.”

“Good, because-” Fred suddenly clutched his chest and began foaming at the mouth, grabbing onto George’s shoulder as his body seized.

George grabbed onto Fred. “Fred, what-!” George’s mouth began to foam as well, and he clutched his chest. As one they fell to the ground.

“Fred? George?” Ron asked. “C’mon, get up, I know it was just a prank…” They continued to lie there, motionless, and fear entered Ron’s heart. He ran to their sides, tears in his eyes, grasping his wand in his hand. He was about to cast _Renervate_ when he heard the hissing. 

A small garden snake slithered out of Fred’s shirt, and Ron froze, petrified. A garden snake had bitten him in the garden and at the time he had thought it was poisonous and had run to mum, convinced he was about to die horribly without an antidote. Ever since then he’d been irrationally afraid of them. 

George suddenly sat up, looking apologetic as he wiped the foam off of his mouth with the back off his hand, reaching over to grasp the garden snake by the back of the head. The snake writhed in his hand and Ron cried out, falling onto his rear as he leaned away. George gently let the snake go a few feet away and it slithered quickly away, disappearing into the grass. “Sorry, mate. We didn’t know you would…” George had an odd, soft expression on his face.

Fred sat up with a snicker. “His _face_ ,” he said, and George gave him a _look_ that made Fred deflate.

Ron felt anger and betrayal bubble up in his chest, so strong he felt he was about to burst. The warmth in his chest pulsed and overflowed, and his righteous fury burst out in a flash of heat and molten flame. Fred’s eyes widened and he pulled back away from Ron. Ron looked down at himself, laughing in delight as the liquid fire popped and sparked in his hands. It was vibrant, as bright as the sun itself.

There was no way he was hiding this. Just wait until he told Harry!


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two • Meetings

Harry 

Saturday, July 22nd, 1995

Harry found himself dealing with his new life with equanimity. He did his chores as usual, protected his sphere with as much strength as he could muster, and went to bed as contentedly as he could. But part of him had been desperately curious. He knew he shouldn’t have, but he had searched for answers anyway. He got a card at the local public library and began to research. 

First he looked up books on mysterious ailments, but he quickly abandoned that as some of the pictures inside the books depicting these diseases had been frankly, disturbing. He did a more general search then, coming day after day whenever he could find free time. Frustration found himself in the mythology section, where a picture with a fox with a white sphere clasped in its paws twin to the one in his pocket led him to a book about Kitsune.

Harry had read the first book, shaking his head over what was inside. 

_ …Each Kitsune has a beautiful starball that is, in a sense, the source of their magic and abilities, usually taken from their mouth or carried on top of their tails. Kitsune have nine tails total, and in [mythology] earn them throughout their very long lives.  _

_ Kitsune are wise and benevolent creatures, oh yes, and wily and smart. Kitsune are [referenced] to have a natural glamour that make them naturally beautiful and pleasing to the eye… _

“wise and benevolent creatures,” “naturally beautiful and pleasing to the eye,” and “smart,” stood out to him, and Harry returned the book to the library the next day with a downtrodden feeling in the pit of his gut.

“Not what you were looking for, dearie?” The librarian at the desk asked.

“No. Not at all.” Harry replied glumly.

He couldn’t be a Kitsune, so he was back to where he started. Maybe all of those incidents really did mark him as a freak. But then one day as he was running from Dudley and his gang down the sidewalk - with no good hiding place in sight - he desperately plunged into some rose bushes, making himself as small as possible and desperately wishing he was smaller. 

He found himself crouched in the darkness, the scent of roses all around him as thorns snared his body, a large canopy of leaves rising above him. He heard Dudley’s laugh and flinched, his heart beating like a rabbit in his chest. He curled up into a ball, his paws tucked under him and his tails covering his nose as he willed Dudley to  _ go away _ .

And amazingly, he did, he and his gang’s footsteps retreating.

After that incident, Harry nicked a small mirror from a convenient store and put it in his room against the wall between the bed and the door, just in case someone came barging in. Harry closed his eyes and focused hard on that sensation he had felt, of his entire being collapsing inwards onto itself. Harry’s body began to change, the confining limits of his human flesh falling away as the humming energy within him was compressed and constrained down into a safer, smaller form.

Harry stretched himself out from claw to tail tip, a satisfying sensation running down his spine. He cocked his head as he examined himself in the mirror. Maybe it was vanity, but he wanted to know what he looked like in this form. A strange being looked back in the mirror at him. It had a slightly upturned muzzle with long whiskers that twitched as it sniffed the air. It’s ears were large and round, swerving about to pick up the slightest sound. It was bigger and taller than a regular fox, and its legs were long and elegant, one uplifted much like the hoof of a deer’s. It had two bushy tails that nearly reached the ground, and its eyes were a deep emerald green. 

Harry blinked, and the fox blinked too. His coloring was salt and pepper grey, making him appear silver except for on his ears, nose, legs, and tail, which were jet black. His whole form was eclipsed with incandescent white light.

Harry went into a panic when he realized he had no idea where his starball went, then stilled when he felt that familiar pulsing coldness at the center of his chest. He felt comforted by its presence and shapeshifted back to human, content.

Harry looked up at the sound of wings at his bedroom door. Ron’s owl looked at him irritatedly, sticking out his leg. “Thanks, Pidgewidgeon,” Harry told him, giving him some owl treats as he removed the letter from his foot. 

_ Harry, _

_ Harry, mate, you’ll never guess what happened to me. I can’t tell you everything right now, because believe me, it’s unbelievable, mate.  _

_ See you on the train, _

_ Ron _

* * *

Hermione

Friday, July 28th, 1995

Hermione paused at the outside door as she heard voices inside. She quickly swallowed a pain reliever potion - grimacing at the taste - before shoving the phial in her pocket and striding through the door.

The meeting was being held in what was once an old cathedral, with towering triangular spires set in a high stone building painted a pure white, with stained glass windows that shone fractaled light down below. The church’s pews had been carefully removed to allow for a large, round table with horridly uncomfortable seats that always gave her a backache for hours afterwards. On several walls were maps of the United States and Britain with places circled and marked out. Ley lines were drawn across the world map on one wall, and behind one wall in its place of detestment were the current names of all the members of a certain Pureblood Order. 

Hermione strode purposefully towards that unwelcome but very much asked for table, sitting down in the seat next to Reg and wiping her sweaty palms on her jeans. To be summoned by the two heads of the American and British Branches of the Eidolon Ordinance respectively was properly daunting; the fact that they wanted Reg there with her was not as comforting as it should have been.

As much as she loved Reg and as much he no doubt loved her as well from adopting and raising her as a child when her parents died, they both had a duty to the Ordinance. That duty must be obeyed above all else.

Lora North, Head of the American Branch, pierced her with her arctic blue eyes as she said, “Welcome, Hermione Granger. I hope you ran into no trouble on your way here?” 

Hermione swallowed hard. “No. No trouble.” She said around the lump in her throat.

Ariana Abbott was looking at her with her head cocked, a bemused smile on her face. Ariana had an almost fae-like quality to her, her light hair a wispy halo around her head. Her eyes had a perceptiveness, however, that belied that quality. The British Head smiled at Hermione and changed the subject. “Have you ever read James Bond, Hermione?”

Hermione felt thrown by the question. “Those spy movies?” She asked skeptically.

Lora leaned forward, eyes intent. “Yes. And we’re going to need our own spy.”

“And that spy… is you.”

* * *

Draco

Monday, July 31st, 1995

Draco was lost in the muggle world with nothing but his staff and a love-hate relationship with his internal compass. And he couldn’t even use a  _ point me _ spell, because of the underage magic limit. Technically it didn’t apply to any Purebloods who were a part of the Phantom Order, but that had been when they were all still a part of the Eidolon Ordinance. 

The Eidolon Ordinance was gone now, of course. Everyone in the magical world knew that.

Draco saw a bright orb of light fly through the air above him and groaned in despair, breaking into a run to follow it. These small orbs were a sign of a new Spirit materializing from the Dream, and were also what they turned into when they died, to be absorbed by their cursed weapons. Draco liked to keep them as trophies in his room, which made his staff sulk.

It wasn’t sulking now, and as the Spirit began to hover near the ground in the middle of the sidewalk he could feel it pulse with eagerness in his hands. He twirled it in his hands, letting it materialize the twin blades at its ends. Mother always said that not all Spirits were malicious and that it was good to be polite if they weren’t. However father always said that whether a Spirit was malicious or not didn’t mean it wouldn’t still attack you, and so it was prudent to be cautious.

So Draco kept his weapon out as a wolf appeared in front of him. It was half black and half white, with blue eyes. On its face the black and white swirled into the yin and yang symbol, and it was nimbused in a glowing orange light. Draco… had no idea what Spirit this was. Look, he usually had someone  _ with him _ to tell him what the Spirit was, it’s not like he was slacking or anything!

The wolf cocked its head, and its fur bled to white. It gave him a wolfish grin and danced to the side, walking around Draco, Draco turning to keep a bead on its location. It kept walking down the sidewalk and then stopped, turning its head to look at him with a whine, wagging its tail pitifully.

“No, I am  _ not _ following you,” Draco said. “For all I know, you could be leading me to my death!”

The wolf snarled, lips turning up to bare its fangs. It’s white fur turned black, and then with a blink of light it disappeared.

Draco sighed. 

Alright,  _ point me _ spell it was.


End file.
